8 RAY FLICKED AT THE Metro TAP card in his pocket. He would’ve handed it over to No-Tongue with the rest of his stuff, but was certain he’d have to hop on public transport at least one more time and didn’t want to buy another one. Between the four dollars it had cost him to get up to Hollywood and the ten dollars he’d given to No-Tongue to get back downtown, he didn’t have much capital left. It was no coincidence the cops were on top of him as soon as he’d arrived at the Impala and pulled the body out. Someone was waiting for him to get back to the rusted car. If their intention wasn’t to pin the murder on Ray, then it was to shift the focus to him so the trail would grow cold on the real culprit. Ray couldn’t think of anyone he’d pissed off lately. Sure, there had been small disagreeme

